Facade
by ShadowWolf181
Summary: AU. College student Vegeta is no stranger to pain. It raised him, molded him into the person he is today. One day Vegeta comes across something he shouldn't have, and it alters his perception of human life. Now he sees death all around him and embraces it. What will it take to make him release his grip? A goofy college peer, perhaps? WARNING: Disturbing Content Within.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

This story is insignificant. Because my life is insignificant.

I bet you wanna hear it anyway? Fine, I'll tell you, if only to get you out of my hair.

Just be aware this isn't a tale for the faint of heart or the easily offended. I'd rather not waste time on those weaklings.

No, this is for an audience who either has too much time on their hands or no life whatsoever. (What's the difference?) I mean, really, who out there cares about what I have to say?

Reading for enjoyment is for losers. Don't you know that?

Okay, so mostly it's a stupid college assignment. That's right. Our dumbass instructor thought it would be a great idea to have the whole class begin writing autobiographies describing our individual lives up till now.

Because everyone knows how _very_ eager we are to recount old memories, pleasant or not. So here I am. Reopening old wounds like nobody's business, all for the sake of a goddamn grade I don't even give a rat's ass about.

Superb.

Then again… maybe this will be advantageous. A long overdue catharsis of sorts.

But this isn't about me. Never was.

This is about _her._ I'm doing all of this… for her.


	2. Mother

**Entry 1**

Ah geez… Where do I even start?

I guess I should go to the beginning, huh?

My name's Vegeta. My surname isn't important. You know it already.

If I had to use a single word to define my existence: Pain. Just unimaginable, indescribable _pain._

I grew up in a cozy two-story house with my baby brother, Tarble, and parents, Mizuna and Vegeta. Yeah, so I was named after my father. Very original. Life was good. Better than good, it was fantastic…

Until my ninth birthday.

On that day my father finally came clean about his clandestine affair with the widow of one of his many "patients."

My father is an embalmer. He deals with corpses 24/7, dolls them up so they'll look presentable on their big day.

Naturally my mother was crushed.

She had been irrevocably enamored with the tall, noble man since that fateful day in junior high. Back then he hardly took notice of her—forgot she even existed—thanks to her quiet, unobtrusive nature.

It wasn't until years later, when Mizuna gathered the courage to join the high school cheerleading squad, that everything changed. Vegeta, who was a quarterback on the football team, began to take notice of Invisible Girl's inner and outer beauty.

Eventually they dated, then mated, which eventually led to Mizuna popping out tiny wailing brats (like me) and then, last but not least, marriage.

Pretty cliché story if you ask me.

When our mother had shared her love life (eloquently) with us as a bedtime story, a dreamy light beneath her dark eyes accompanied by a fond smile, I'd expected something more… I don't know. _Dramatic._ Less simple.

Personally, love and romance held no real interest for me. Serious relationships are cumbersome. More trouble than they're worth.

And yet, people continue to torture themselves by wasting valuable time on hopeless daydreams, tirelessly searching for Mr. or Mrs. Right.

Feels wrong. Pointless.

Guys like me?

We're easily satisfied by just fucking anyone until either participant loses consciousness. No mushy dialogue, no strings attached. No emotional mess.

Only pure, unbridled lust.

Some of you might turn your nose up at such a decadent idea. But it works for me, so you all can suck my thick dick.

But I digress.

I was formerly talking about the strenuous relationship between my folks.

Long story short, my father abandoned his family.

Packed up every item he owned and left to move in with his newfound family, consisting of that whore and her two hellions.

Bastard didn't even say goodbye to his _real_ kids. He just…

Left.

I'm not sad and I'm definitely not crying. I'm just…

Pissed.

Because he should've said adios to Tarble, at least. That boy cherishes his father more than anything he's ever come to cherish in his young life.

Vegeta was his hero.

Mine too…

Before the image had been brutally shattered by a harsh reality check.

Despite our suffering, our mother suffered way more. Even a blade to the heart would not ease her agony, because she had no heart left to speak of. Whatever remained was torn into fragments.

For a good while money was tight. Mizuna worked in a nursing home and earned a decent salary, but it still wasn't enough to support her and two extra mouths. So she put in an application for a second job at an animal clinic. Caring for living things happened to be one of her few passions.

Nonetheless, her work days were long and taxing. Her nights, lonely and dismal.

Oftentimes Tarble would slip into my room and we'd lounge on my bed, quietly listening as our mother gently cried herself to sleep every night.

Mizuna was always carrying an old photo depicting a teen Vegeta wearing casual clothes, football field as the background, grinning smugly as he twirled a football on one finger.

Over time my brother and I saw the change happen before our eyes.

In the beginning she lost or forgot important things. Then she'd lose track of time. Eventually, she quit going to work on a regular basis. Plus she had these godawful mood swings.

Depressed, angry, penitent, doting, numb.

Not always in that order.

Quietly she shriveled like an old rose, sinking, drowning in the yawning chasm of her mind.

Sometimes my brother and I succeeded in dragging her back from whatever spell she was under. Cooking, cleaning, giving gifts on the holidays…

It was the small things that made her face brighten. It was the small things that reminded her we were still alive.

Maybe her husband quit loving her, but we never stopped.

However Tarble was the golden child. The apple of Mother's eye. He could do no wrong, even when he was wrong.

Part of me resented him for it.

This is because I look too much like Father. While Tarble gained Mizuna's soft, innocent features I had the bad luck of acquiring Vegeta's rough, churlish features.

Which meant I got the brunt of her malice and abusive moods.

"You're just like your father."

She'd snarl and look down her nose at me whenever she said this, a denigrating form of hate burning like hot coals inside her eyes.

I didn't recognize her then. Had never known or seen such a person before.

Mizuna would then beat me senseless. Blood as acrid as the angry heat that radiated from her shaking body poured out of every orifice in my head until it was all I could taste, smell and see.

Tarble always tried his best to pacify our mother so she'd cease her vicious assault. He wasn't afraid to get in the middle because Mizuna never touched him.

Not violently.

My brother won many times where I failed. But not without his fair share of scars. Only by offering to sleep with Mother did he manage to direct her emotional rampage elsewhere.

While he was busy satisfying her carnal desire in another room, I was left to hold myself off the hard bloodstained floor, and attempt to treat my wounds.

I recall the excruciating jolts of pain, which happened every time I moved a muscle. But the pain isn't what tormented me. On the contrary I embraced it like an old, lost friend.

No, it was the sounds of wild hunger, the licentious groans that seeped from _that_ room. I could never hear Tarble weep; despite his young age he refused to show any weakness. Stubbornness ran in our family like a genetic trait, and my brother had it—in spades.

I knew once the ordeal was done, however, he would check on me first to make sure I was breathing, before retreating to his gloomy bedroom so he could release his stress and tears in an isolated silence.

My mind yelled "Go to him!" but my body stayed in place—too tired and sore to do much of anything useful. All I could do was secretly cry along with him in the next room over.

Months later we had fallen sound asleep during one particularly cold night. Tarble had been too scared to sleep alone, for reasons only Kami knows, so I let him crawl underneath my quilt. He snuggled so close to me I could feel the warmth of his breath on my exposed chest, and it brought up the memory of when I first held him as an infant.

I recall being woken up the following morning by a bloodcurdling scream. Tarble was gone. I jumped out of bed and rushed into the hallway, anxious to investigate the reason behind the alarming noise. It was coming from the room our mother used to share with our father.

Once I got there… I could see what caused Tarble to scream out of terror. He stood before our mother's bed, wide eyed, but she was nowhere on it.

Above it, Mother dangled like a well-crafted marionette. Lifeless eyes stared at the ground, while her body, cold and grey, delicately swung side to side as if by a gentle breeze.

We said nothing. Because there was nothing to say.

Shock. Disbelief. Those were our words.

I didn't take notice of the hastily written suicide note until minutes later. It was on the dresser and appeared to have been set there carefully. On it Mizuna had apologized for everything.

For being an awful mother to us. For not being strong enough to endure this life. More importantly, for leaving us like Father left her.

I literally laughed once I got to the paragraph saying how much she loved us and just wanted us to have the joyful childhood she was denied in her youth.

Bullshit.

Our father abandoned us for another family. Our mother abandoned us because she was too pathetic to survive without the traitorous scum. And we had no other family ties worth mentioning, except each other.

What part of any of this was supposed to be joyful?

Whatever.

I hope she gets brutally raped forever by the minions of Hell. She deserves no less for her sins.

So…

I called 911 and reported the incident to the operator. My voice was surprisingly calm. Impassive. I think I was numb. Eventually they arrived and…

Everything after that was pretty much a blur.

All I know is they sent Tarble and me to live with the one thing I hated more than anything in this entire world.

Dear old Dad.


End file.
